


In Season

by carameldrizzle



Series: caramel's radiodust hell [3]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute Ending, Embarrassment, Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Jealousy, M/M, Mates, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rutting, Smut, Swing Dancing, Trans Male Character, alastor constantly making a fool of himself, probably out of character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:14:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21515488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carameldrizzle/pseuds/carameldrizzle
Summary: Alastor is a deer, and being a deer comes with some downsides. This, however, is the first year he's spent the season with someone he can call his mate.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: caramel's radiodust hell [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1547995
Comments: 136
Kudos: 1765





	1. Pre-Rut

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes you gotta enjoy the little things in life, like ur deer bf really enjoying head scritches

"Alright, someone's gotta bring it up," Angel spoke suddenly into the silence, propping his chin up on his hand, "so I'll take the bait. Your horns are bigger."

As one, the hotel staff seemed to be immediately listening in. Vaggie glanced up from her crossword, Charlie from her paperwork, and Husk from his drink, even Niffty twisting her head around to peer at the two of them from where she was sweeping. Alastor gave a staticky sigh, removing his monocle and wiping it with his shirt, giving his hands something to do.

"Antlers," the radio demon corrected delicately. "Yes, they've grown."

"They've _been_ growin'," Angel pushed, leaning forward into Alastor's personal space. Long were the days that the two of them were mere acquaintances, but Alastor still leaned away from Angel's sudden invasion. "Do they usually do that?"

"Around this time of year, yes," he answered easily enough.

"And they're all fuzzy!"

"It's called velvet," Alastor told him, replacing his monocle and straightening his bowtie. He seemed somewhat agitated, Angel noted, but promptly forgot it at the mention of the material. The spider demon reached upward toward Alastor's antlers.

"Do they feel like velvet, too - ?"

Before he was even finished speaking, Alastor's hands shot upward, quick as lightning, and snatched Angel's wrists right out of the air. Eyes wide, Angel stared, surprised, at Alastor, whose pupils flickered as radio dials so quickly he almost missed it. Slowly, carefully, Alastor lowered Angel's hands to his lap, eyes narrowed and extra static seeping into his voice.

"No touching," he ground out in a warning tone he had not used with Angel for ages, making the spider demon avert his gaze with a pout. Alastor had the sense to feel some shame for spooking Angel, though, so, clearing his throat, he added, "It will shed soon enough. _Then_ you can touch."

"I'm holding you to that, big guy," Angel crooned, brightening at the invitation.

Yet his brows were slightly furrowed, the outburst clearly sparking some concern. He opened his mouth, a question on his lips, but Alastor shook his head minutely. He nodded toward the hall, and Angel got the message.

They both stood, Angel stretching luxuriously, and headed out of the lobby toward Alastor's hotel room. They could feel eyes on them, obviously aware they were going off to discuss their very conspicuous moment, but it was no longer unusual for Alastor and Angel to wander off together. Whatever they could come up with about the duo was probably true.

"So, you wanna tell me what that was all about?" Angel asked as they stepped into the elevator, leaning against the back wall. Alastor waited until the doors were fully closed before speaking, his smile slipping a notch.

"I . . . apologize. I didn't mean to startle you." He said it so sincerely that guilt sunk low in Angel's gut just for asking. "My antlers are quite sensitive while in velvet, you see - and before you ask, no, not the fun kind of sensitive."

"Shame," Angel mused. He raised a tentative hand, but before he could even come close to the soft-looking growths, Alastor had his wrist in a vicelike grip. "Aw, c'mon - not even a light tap?"

"No," Alastor said firmly. He brought the appendage downward and relocated his hand to hold Angel's, preventing it from getting into further trouble. "I'm going to have to ask that this be one thing you don't joke about. Understood?"

"Got it," Angel muttered, subdued, and Alastor squeezed his hand briefly in lieu of thanks. The spider demon still peered curiously at the antlers, though. "Do they . . . hurt?"

Alastor's silence was more than enough of an answer, and sympathetically he gave Alastor's hand another squeeze. The radio demon seemed to bristle somewhat at the sign of comfort, though, almost cutely self-conscious about the whole thing.

"I can manage a foolish soul meddling where he should not," he said, smile dangerously warning, "far better than that fool could manage what I would do to him after."

"I believe you," Angel said honestly. The elevator doors opened and they stepped out into the hall, making a beeline for Alastor's room. "No worries, sweetheart - if anyone tries anything, I'll fuck 'em up before you can even get to the poor bastard!"

"My hero," Alastor chuckled as he unlocked the door, and Angel swooped down to plant a pleased kiss on his cheek.

* * *

"Al? What are you _doing?"_

The radio demon froze in place, caught in the act, and slowly, sheepishly, turned to grin at Angel. He opened his mouth to speak, paused, closed it, and opened it again. This went on a few times before he finally settled on, "They itch."

Angel stared openly at the fleshy pieces hanging from Alastor's antlers, brows furrowed in bafflement, his mouth parted slightly as he struggled for words. They didn't look itchy, they looked _painful._ Bloody and flaky, once-soft velvet shedded from it like slightly more disgusting snakeskin, and under it, fresh black antlers were newly exposed to the world.

Tears raked along the wallpaper where Alastor had been furiously, comically rubbing his head, and finally Angel sputtered out, "You have hands!"

"Thank you, dear, I had no idea!" Alastor replied, a bite to his tone as his cheeks only reddened further. "I can't exactly help it - this damnable body comes with its own instincts."

"And you can't ignore them?" Angel questioned skeptically, cocking a hip and placing one of his lower hands on it and crossing his upper pair. He felt like - he had no idea how to feel, actually. Alastor had the decency to look ashamed of himself, which made Angel feel like a scolding parent catching his child stealing sweets, but was also far too entertained (and cared too little for the wallpaper) to be angry.

"Think of it," Alastor said, voice sounding remarkably strained, "as the difference between playing with your own hair and allowing someone else to do it for you."

Angel supposed he could understand that. It didn't make the situation any less funny, though. "You know you could just ask me, baby."

Alastor hesitated to ask anything of anyone, of course, Angel knew, so when the radio demon said nothing he reached for his hands and started to tug his partner toward his bedroom, conveniently nearby. Alastor drug his feet a little but did not protest. Once Angel had them both inside and the door shut securely behind them, he led Alastor to the massive heart-shaped bed.

"Now, Angel - " Alastor started to protest as the spider demon scooted up toward the headboard.

"Shut up and come here," Angel interrupted, settling among his pillows and spreading his arms out invitingly, and after a moment's hesitation Alastor slid his jacket off his shoulders, set it at the foot of the bed, and moved to settle between Angel's legs. As soon as he was close enough, Angel reached out and rubbed his thumbs over the base of Alastor's antlers.

_"Oh."_

It came out as a low, staticky groan, and a pleased grin tugged at Angel's lips as the radio demon's eyes instantly slid shut in contentment. Alastor slid slowly downward, sprawling out atop Angel, and buried his face in that soft chest fur as Angel's fingers continued to work their magic. The velvet peeled away easily under his hands, and he carefully collected the excess in his second set of hands to throw away later.

Something of a satisfied rumble emitted from Alastor as Angel rubbed away the dry, dead material, working from base to each branching tip until his new antlers, brilliantly midnight black, shone in the low lighting. They were not much taller than before, not any taller than his ears, but they branched out sideways quite elegantly. Once he had thoroughly cleared them off, Angel returned to rubbing small circles into his scalp where the bone sprouted from his head, noticing the way Alastor seemed to push against his hand when he did so.

"Better?" he hummed, claws tracing lightly over his scalp, and Alastor mumbled something into his chest that sounded vaguely like _very much so._ The radio demon nuzzled further into Angel's chest with a deep, fulfilled sigh. "Just ask me next time, weirdo."

"Absolutely," Angel caught despite how muffled it was, and he chuckled.

* * *

"Are these . . . claw marks?"

Charlie held a hand up to the tears in the wallpaper. The spacing between them was much larger than her fingers could stretch to fit, but she was hardly the biggest demon in the hotel. Vaggie backtracked to where Charlie had suddenly stopped to take in the sight.

"There's plenty of demons with claws in here, and plenty of those throw tantrums," she pointed out. Suddenly, realization dawned on her face, and she started to laugh, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. "Those aren't claw marks, though."

"No?" Charlie questioned, but Vaggie was too busy laughing at whatever inside joke was amusing her so greatly to let her girlfriend in on it. The princess frowned, but continued moving down the hall, making a mental note to have Alastor get the wallpaper replaced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> important note for future chapters: alastor is ace, but not sex-repulsed. because of sexual content to come in this fic i have decided against tagging asexual alastor. there will be mentions of his rut making him uncomfortable, thus making future interactions somewhat dubcon. continue at your own risk.


	2. Seeking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am SO sorry for how late this came out, i really intended to post it earlier but today has been so busy! and i feel so bad because it's such a short chapter, honestly not much content in here.but more to come soon.
> 
> i love this community so much. i came back to the comments and so many of y'all helped educate others on asexuality and i was so shook? you guys are so great i love y'all

"Okay, pal, what's with the staring?"

Usually, Angel loved having all eyes on him. It made him feel important, wanted, and of course he didn't pretty himself up for nothing. But Alastor was not like the other demons Angel knew, no - not exactly the gawking type - so when Angel counted ten entire fucking minutes spent with Alastor none-too-subtly ogling him, he started to get a tad concerned.

Alastor blinked at him, as though startled by the confrontation. "You simply paint such a lovely picture, my dear," he replied honestly, as though no thought had gone into the response, winking quite conspicuously. "I can't look away."

"Barf," Vaggie groaned loudly from the couch as Husk made a gagging noise across the bar.

Angel's brow furrowed, his smile confused. Alastor preferred whispering sweet things in his ear, subtle looks and implications thrown across the room, and above all, keeping the thick of their relationship mostly personal; being so bold and open about it was out of character for the radio demon. It was made even more obvious when Alastor gave him a _very_ obvious once-over, eyes tracing the lines of Angel's body.

"Okay, Casanova," Angel chuckled nervously, crossing both sets of arms in a subconscious effort to cover himself somewhat. It was admittedly weird to have Alastor look at him like that. Usually the radio demon seemed to care very little for his appearance. "Tone it down a bit before you make these poor souls sick, will ya?"

Alastor finally seemed to notice the room's other occupants, and after a heartbeat an almost unnoticeable flush crawled up his neck and face. He cleared his throat and spun around on the barstool, facing outward toward the rest of the lobby, and swirled his whiskey in its glass. The ice clinked together noisily in the silence, which stretched on for ages before Angel realized Alastor did not plan on saying anything further.

It was not the first time Angel had caught him looking - in fact, several times in the past couple days, Angel had been the subject of Alastor's frequent spells of spacing out, and for once, it was not Angel's intention to do so. For the most part, he typically allowed Alastor to do his work before diverting his attention, but it seemed Alastor was getting distracted all on his own. Angel hadn't even bought any new clothes or makeup!

When Alastor suddenly downed his alcohol, slamming the glass on the bartop and making his way out of the lobby, presumably toward his room, Angel wasted no time in finishing his obnoxiously pink drink and following him. Angel caught the elevator door just before it closed and stepped inside, waiting for it to close behind him before he spoke.

"Not that I don't love being the object of your attention," he started, pushing up his chest fluff for emphasis and noting the way Alastor's eyes followed the motion, "but what's changed?"

"I'm seeing you in a new light," Alastor answered, genuine but dry. The elevator dinged, and they stepped out, heading for his room as he added, "A rather distracting one."

"Is that a bad thing?" Angel asked, rubbing self-consciously at one of his arms. Alastor unlocked the door and they stepped in. Most of Alastor's furniture was on the classier side of the room, so that was where they went. Besides, the mud of the swamp had a tendency to destroy Angel's boots.

"An annoying one." Alastor shed his jacket and draped it over his desk chair, then hesitated, sharply whirling around to face Angel, whose lips had curled into a frown. "Ah - that is, not because of you, I mean - "

"I get it," Angel grumbled, settling down on the edge of the large bed with his arms crossed. He was used to being called annoying - it was part of his persona - but somehow, being called that by Alastor stung more than usual, even with the insistence that it wasn't about him.

Alastor let out a staticky sigh and shook his head, a gentle hand reaching forward to lift Angel's chin up. "No, my dearest Angel, you don't," he said, tone somewhat clipped, and Angel's frown morphed into a still-upset but less serious pout. "But I assure you, I _do_ enjoy looking at you - you really are such a lovely specimen! A sight for sore eyes, truly. I'm simply displeased about how hard it has become to focus on anything else."

"Why's that? That you're distracted, I mean."

Alastor joined him on the bed, and Angel took it as clear an invitation as any to climb into his lap. The radio demon did not protest, only leaning back on his palms so he could look up more comfortably at his partner. Angel did not miss the way his cheeks were still dusted with color as he settled his hands on Alastor's shoulders.

"I'm not positive that's a discussion I'm ready to have," he replied honestly. "But it will come soon. This is a particularly obnoxious indicator of change."

"Oh?" Angel questioned lamely, unsure what else to ask, and Alastor nodded.

"It happens yearly," he offered more context, and Angel rested their foreheads together at the tired tone. "After the velvet sheds. I don't particularly enjoy it."

"Well, if there's anything I can do for you," Angel promised as one of Alastor's hands settled on the small of his back, "you just gotta ask, baby. I'll help however I can."

For a heartbeat, Angel swore Alastor's eyes glowed, and his hand slid to Angel's hip, squeezing enough that the spider could feel his claws through his gloves.

"Oh, you will, my dear," he purred, low and almost primal as his lips curled into a sickly sweet smile, and fuck if that didn't send a delightful shiver up Angel's spine. "Don't worry."

Angel almost wanted to ask what he meant, but he forgot quickly, far more interested in the kisses Alastor was claiming from his sinful lips.


	3. Chasing

Angel Dust was a lovely creature. His eyes were a pretty color, his makeup carefully and delicately crafted in a time-consuming way that Alastor greatly respected, and his body was . . . impressive, to keep it classy. Long legs, delicate hands, curves in all the right places. While Alastor did not often have thoughts of the bedroom variety, he could still appreciate a fine specimen when he saw one.

Alastor was not the only one who could _appreciate_ him, though. It usually bothered him little. Angel Dust was a prostitute, after all, and though he did not participate in such acts often anymore, he was still notoriously promiscuous and enjoyed having eyes on him. Angel enjoyed looking pretty, and he enjoyed people finding him pretty even more.

It was a fact Alastor was typically fine with. He would never ask Angel to change himself for his own comfort. Besides, Angel showed little interest in anyone but him nowadays, and whenever a demon got too handsy Angel was ready with a hidden gun or knife or even a broken beer bottle if he was out of options. They were limits the spider had imposed on himself, but he still followed them out of respect for Alastor, and he appreciated it greatly.

Angel also looked absolutely breathtaking while threatening someone's life, but that was beside the point.

The _point_ was that the rules and boundaries of their relationship were clearly defined, and yet somehow, as Alastor caught sight of more than one hotel resident staring at Angel's - _rather ample,_ he added unnecessarily, then mentally kicked himself - bottom had an unfamiliar burning sensation rising in him, and after a short moment of surprise he pinned it as _jealousy._ As though he had the right to be jealous!

Right - he had no claim over Angel. Angel was an independent demon with freedom of choice, and Alastor was very vocal in his support of those choices. He was loyal to Alastor out of his own interest in being so, and Alastor trusted him to remain so. It was Alastor's own inability to satisfy all of Angel's needs that even led them to such an agreement.

Yet somehow, he could not stop himself from widening his grin at the pesky rat demon ogling his partner, his pupils turning to radio dials as the sound of static rang louder and louder in his prey's ears. With a low whine and huge, terrified eyes, the rat scurried from the lobby down one of the halls, on all fours as though his life depended on it.

Angel took notice of the sudden skittering noise, and after spotting the retreating demon, whipped his head around to peer curiously at Alastor, who quickly let his radio demon form drop - but not quickly enough. Angel furrowed his brows, eyes traveling suspiciously over Alastor's very fake _I've been caught_ grin, his lips pulling into a frown.

"Was that necessary?" he asked, giving Alastor the benefit of the doubt. A chance at explaining himself. He definitely did not deserve it.

"No," Alastor replied honestly, and though a sense of shame tugged at him with the admission, the satisfaction of chasing away someone who had eyed his partner with such thinly-veiled lust was stronger, winning out over any guilt. But Angels frown deepened, disapproval radiating from it, and he crossed his lower arms.

"Then why'd you do it?" Angel questioned, voice gaining an edge to it, and Alastor's prideful high slipped a notch. Angel's lips wrapped around his pink straw as his sipped his somehow even pinker drink, though, and Heaven if that wasn't enough to distract Alastor from any twinge of regret he might have felt. Angel snapped his fingers insistently, though, sounding annoyed. "Hey. I'm talking to you, bub."

"I simply disliked the way that cretin was looking at my maaa . . . arvelous partner!" Angel clearly did not miss the way he stumbled, and Alastor wished desperately for someone to come and interrupt their conversation so he could forget that he had nearly called Angel his _mate._ That was _definitely_ not appropriate. "I apologize for overstepping any boundaries. I realize it was uncalled for."

"Yeah, it was," Angel sniped, not as gentle as Alastor expected, and he recoiled slightly at the annoyed tone. Was Angel truly that disappointed in him? But the spider demon sighed and continued, "Listen, I ain't mad. Not really. But you said you didn't care about that kinda stuff, so I want an explanation."

"It was a momentary lapse in judgment, my dear, nothing more." Angel did not look as though he believed him. "It won't happen again, I assure you."

Angel stared at him for a while, clearly not buying it, seeing right through the very fake smile. Alastor cursed his vulnerability toward the spider; Angel had been around him far too much to take much of what he said at face value.

"Listen, Al," Angel sighed, leaning against the bar, "if you don't want other guys lookin' at me, that's fine. I don't blame you for getting jealous. Most people do. But you need to _tell_ me, not act all passive aggressive until I get the message. Just talk to me, alright?"

Ah - there was the guilt, making his smile slip a fraction - Angel really had a way of getting under his skin. "I don't want to restrain you," Alastor protested quickly, raising his hands placatingly, and boy if _that_ wasn't overdoing it, basically confirming his shame. Angel snorted, clearly thinking the same as he swirled his straw slowly in his drink.

"Yeah, okay," he said, thoroughly unconvinced. "Just maybe don't make the next guy piss himself."

* * *

Red. Heavens, of course he was wearing red. _Don't be possessive,_ Angel had told him, and then gone and worn _red._ That little minx knew exactly what he was doing.

Watching Angel sashay about the social function in that pretty red low-cut mini dress was absolute torture, and he most certainly knew it, too. The presence of thigh-highs, long gloves, and lovely black heels did not help, and the loose curls of his wig were an unnecessary, but pretty, touch. And of course, he had downed more than a few glasses of champagne, so he was being more than subtly flirty with any man that so much had glanced his way.

Except Alastor, of course. Never Alastor, not when Angel was under the impression he didn't care for such things.

The sixth feel-up was far beyond the last straw, but Alastor was running terribly low on self-restraint. He wanted so terribly to let his shadow loose, allow it to do all the work, tearing that scrawny little weasel demon limb from limb, but he shook his head with a small huff and sunk back further in the scrawny armchair, reluctantly tearing his gaze away.

 _No right to be jealous,_ he reminded himself. It was just that time of year. He should take some leave soon - three weeks should do it. It was a stretch, but there was little way around it; Charlie would just have to survive on her own for a while.

"I've got a condo nearby - "

Alastor's sensitive ears picked up the husky whisper from across the room, under all the chatter of guests and residents away, and a moment later, a soft giggle from Angel. Anger had his fingers twitching, claws digging into the nice armrest, but he held himself back. He had no reason to interrupt. It was not within his rights to steal opportunities from Angel, unless . . .

"Angel," he crooned, just barely raising his voice, but it was plenty loud enough for his partner to hear him.

The spider demon turned to glance at him, a question on his lips. Alastor raised one hand and crooked his finger, a gesture of _come here,_ and Angel turned away from the well-dressed demon he had been talking to in a heartbeat. He'd had a noteworthy few more drinks, but he was still well-coordinated, swinging his hips with every step until he was standing before Alastor with his hands on his hips.

"Something I can do for you, sir?" he asked sweetly, visibly taking great pride in the way Alastor appreciatively looked him over - not for the first time that night.

Not trusting his suddenly dry throat, Alastor brought both hands up to Angel's hips. Angel offered little resistance; with only a light tug he was clambering into Alastor's lap, making himself comfortable between the radio demon's legs as he settled sideways on the chair, his legs kicked over one of the arms. He planted a kiss on Alastor's cheek, undoubtedly leaving a print, but Alastor could not bring himself to care.

"Finally notice the prettiest harlot in the room, did ya?"

"I've been noticing you," Alastor replied. Angel smelled lovely - some new perfume? - and he nosed none-too-subtly at his neck, enjoying the scent washing over his senses. "So has everyone else."

The spider demon hummed, taking a sip of the champagne glass in his hand. "Don't think I didn't notice how you conveniently interrupted me. If you're gonna be chasing guys off, you'd better put out to make up for it."

It was said half-heartedly, a reminder of the rules but not a real insistence that it needed to happen, but Alastor thought he might do it anyway if Angel just pushed a little more. Yes, he might have to reward him for giving him such a pretty sight tonight. It'd be a surprise, too - Angel wouldn't expect it from him, making it even better when it happened.

"I'm not chasing anyone off!" Alastor insisted innocently, tracing light patterns on the strip of exposed thigh between Angel's dress and socks. "Merely asking attention from you is much different than threatening your other suitors."

"As if sitting on _the_ Alastor's lap doesn't chase men off," Angel snorted, but he did not sound even vaguely upset, a stark contrast from the last fiasco. "I guess you can't be blamed for them being cowards, though."

Indeed, the weasel demon Alastor had fantasized murdering only a few minutes before looked ready to shit himself just by making eye contact with the radio demon while Angel was in his lap. As a matter of fact, several demons seemed to be averting their gazes, and a low, staticky chuckle of satisfaction escaped his throat.

"If a knight is too scared to fight a dragon to get to his prince," he murmured, lips brushing against Angel's neck and making him shiver, "he's hardly worthy of your hand."

"I'm no prince," Angel protested, though his face had grown remarkably pink with just those few words and the gentle touches on his skin. "Jeez, Al, do you have to get all Shakespeare on me like that?"

"Did you just spout the first poet you thought of?" Alastor countered with an amused huff. "Shakespeare was better known as a playwright."

"Shut up, smartass," Angel hissed out past a gasp as sharp teeth ever so delicately skimmed his shoulder. "I, ah - d-didn't take you as the exhibitionist type - "

"Then shall we take our leave?"

"What about Charlie?"

Alastor raised his hand and waved over a server - some sort of bat, who was shaking from head to toe at being addressed by the radio demon. "Do me a favor," Alastor said, his tone suggesting it was a demand rather than a request, "and tell the lovely hostess of this party that we are retiring for the night, will you?"

"Of c-c-course," the waiter stammered, and darted off, the tray of champagne glasses wobbling precariously in his haste. Alastor straightened his bowtie and tapped Angel's thigh pointedly.

"Let's be off, then!"

Angel slid off his lap, finishing his glass of champagne before looping his arm through Alastor's. They wove their way past the furnishings that Alastor had manifested into the hotel's ballroom and the many demons inhabiting it, most ducking quickly aside at the sight of Alastor, and made it out into the hallway in little time at all. But there were still many bodies milling about the hall, all the way to the lobby, so Alastor maintained his patience for just a little bit longer.

Once they had woven through the hallways on the other side of the lobby and thoroughly distanced themselves from the party, Angel found himself pushed against the nearest wall. Automatically, he hiked his leg up to Alastor's hip, who held it there as he pressed their bodies together, his thumb toying at the illegally short hem of Angel's dress.

"You have been taunting me _all. Night."_ Alastor's free hand wandered, roaming over his stomach, waist, hip, then tugging teasingly at the other side of Angel's dress. "You little minx. You couldn't have found something more modest?"

"Modest ain't my thing, baby," Angel sighed, fingers sinking into Alastor's hair as the radio demon gave a harsh nip to his throat. "Seems like I'm not the only degenerate tonight, though - _ah - "_

"Your fault," Alastor accused him, though with no real venom. His tongue laved over the blood seeping from the bite mark, and Angel's fingers tightened minutely in his hair at the motion.

"As if!" he protested weakly. "You've been all over me for the past week! Not that I'm - _ahh -_ complaining, i-it's just - out of character."

Angel was more perceptive than Alastor gave him credit for. The radio demon sighed, a quiet burst of static, and sagged somewhat, scooting back to create a few inches of distance and allowing Angel's leg to fall back to the ground. Angel paused, chest heaving as he recovered from the moment, before he placed a hand on Alastor's cheek.

"Hey," he crooned softly. "What's going through that busy brain of yours?"

Alastor muttered something under his breath, and though Angel strained to catch it, he failed. He did not want to ask again, but it became clear that Alastor did not intend on speaking unprompted.

"I'm . . . sorry?"

"I - " Alastor tried, then cut himself off. He finally tilted his chin up again, but he looked anywhere but Angel's face, suddenly finding the wallpaper very interesting. "I'm going through, uh . . . "

He trailed off into another mumble, and his smile looked so fragile and his fingers twitched with so much agitation that Angel almost let the matter drop just to make him more comfortable. But something told him it would only be brought up again, so he pouted, pulling out all the charm stops.

"Al," he prompted sternly. "What're you going through?"

The radio demon took a step back, forcing Angel's hand to drop from his cheek, and placed his hands on his hips as he turned away. For a moment Angel worried that he had scared him off, but finally, after a long, silent moment, Alastor spoke.

"A rut," he finally admitted, sounding more strained than Angel had ever heard him before. "I'm going into rut, and it's the root of all the rather uncivilized behavior you've been witnessing these past few weeks."

The silence stretched on even more awkwardly as Angel processed the information. He took too long, apparently, as Alastor turned and started to head in the general direction of the elevator, posture and voice equally stiff.

"Well, now that the cat's out of the bag, I suppose it's time to take my leave - "

"Wait," Angel protested, reaching out to snake his fingers around Alastor's wrist, and the radio demon only stiffened further, if that was even possible. "I just - you mean to tell me you've been acting weird because you're going through some kind of mating season?"

 _"Please_ do not call it that," Alastor groaned, raising the hand Angel wasn't holding to massage his temples, and Angel started to laugh. "Stop it!"

"Al, you're dating a _prostitute,"_ Angel pointed out the obvious, doing his best to quiet his giggles but not hiding the amusement from his tone. "You could have just told me. I get it."

"Well," Alastor sniffed, finally facing Angel again with a notably red face, "now you know."

"Now I know," Angel repeated with a nod, moving his hand from Alastor's wrist to lace their fingers together as his lips curled into a devious grin. "My evil little deer man, going into rut - how cute!"

"Yes, well," Alastor huffed, placing his free hand irately on his hip, "wild bucks also enjoy rolling around in their own urine during this time, so you should be quite glad I'm more demon than deer!"

"Very glad," Angel agreed, amused. He tugged gentle at Alastor's hand, and the deer demon moved with him, allowing Angel to drape his arms over his partner's shoulders. Alastor's hands went immediately to his hips. "Does this mean I'm gonna have a horny radio demon on my ass for a while?"

"Only if you wish it," Alastor replied, grimacing at the wordage. "I typically resign myself to my tower during this time. I planned on doing so again."

"Strawberry, I've _been_ wishing it. There's nothing I'd rather do." Angel paused, then added, "Are you okay with it, though? It can't be easy, what with . . . y'know."

"It's . . . not my favorite time of year," Alastor admitted, the tension in his shoulders very apparent. "It is quite inconvenient for someone with little interest in it, and it has a habit of interrupting my work. Though I never had a . . . ahem. A partner. To spend this time with."

Angel cocked his head curiously. "That's not what you were going to say."

There was no point in lying. "No."

"Do you wanna tell me what it was?" When Alastor hesitated, Angel hastily added, "You don't have to if you don't want to."

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable - it's probably overstepping some boundary, and I quite understand if it chases you off - "

"I get it, sweets. You can tell me."

"Keep in mind I'm only saying this because you asked, and otherwise would have left you out of it - "

_"Al."_

The radio demon's hands were squeezing his hips now, probably unconsciously, and Angel's lower hands rubbed gently at his back, coaxing him to speak. Alastor averted his gaze, a flush firmly in place on his cheeks. He cleared his throat and brought one hand up to tug awkwardly at his collar.

"These pesky instincts of mine," he managed, once again very interested in the wallpaper, "keep influencing my thoughts, and - and referring to you as, ah . . . my mate."

There was a beat of silence as Angel registered his words, before he said, "That is the cutest shit I've ever heard."

 _"Cute?"_ Alastor repeated, tone incredibly offended, and Angel giggled into the back of his hand.

"Very cute," Angel confirmed, nodding solemnly, and then laughed harder as Alastor puffed up like an angry chicken.

"I could eat you alive," he threatened, but Angel was far past the point of being scared. "I am _not_ cute."

"Oh, _please,"_ the spider only half-faked his moan, fingers threading through Alastor's hair once more, who made a choked noise. "Eat me up."

"Be careful what you wish for," Alastor growled, nosing at Angel's neck as he pulled his mate's hips closer. "It might just be granted."


	4. Tending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is, folks - what u came here for
> 
> these two have been TRYING MY PATIENCE with this goddamn chapter. they just wanna talk and be cute instead of having steamy rut sex. im finna fight them both
> 
> we're not gonna talk about the logistics of hickies when angel has fur, okay? okay.
> 
> EDIT: massive change to this chapter. i always wanted it to be this way, and a huge thanks to the radiodust server for hyping me up to make it how i always wanted it to be.
> 
> so warning: angel is trans and his genitals are referred to with feminine terms

"Angel."

It started off relatively tame. Angel let him take the lead, let him set their pace, and Alastor seemed to appreciate it greatly.

When Alastor started asking for more kisses, and then stopped asking altogether, Angel knew the time was approaching. They went from gentle, affectionate gestures that made Angel's heart flutter to more hard, insistent ones that had him eager for more. Then, ultimately, they turned into heated nips at his lips and passionate fingers tangled in his hair and Angel hadn't known Alastor was capable of this kind of intensity.

When Alastor started to corner him in the halls and leave pretty marks all over his neck, Angel knew the time was close. First it was sweet kisses to his neck and shoulders, then pointed hickies that took ages to fade, and once Angel had hinted none-too-subtly that he loved them, harsher bites that bled and remained tender for days. Angel had _almost_ been embarrassed enough to start wearing a scarf, but the way Alastor's chest swelled with pride every time he saw the marks encouraged Angel to bare them for the world to see.

When Alastor started pulling him into his lap, encouraging the sway of his hips and arch of his back, getting handsy in the way he squeezed Angel's ass as the spider ground against him until he was coming messily in his skirt, Angel knew it had started. Yet Alastor had yet to do anything for himself, only focusing on Angel.

But that was to change.

Hands slid around his waist, tugging him into the radio demon's lap, and when claws traced his bare sides Angel realized with a start that Alastor wasn't wearing his usual gloves. Still he got comfortable, letting his eyes slide shut as he draped his arms over Alastor's shoulders. Alastor's forehead rested on his shoulder, carefully avoiding any of the sore marks.

"I'm here, baby," Angel told him, sighing contentedly at the small kisses pressed to his chest. "Something I can do for you?"

It wasn't exactly discreet, the way Alastor had invited him into his bedroom, a hand on the small of his back as he leaned close to avoid eavesdroppers. He'd only murmured a short proposition, but it was effective, sending Angel's heart into stuttering overdrive. It took every ounce of Angel's self-restraint to act cool and calm, to wait for Alastor to retire to his room before following after him.

"Angel," Alastor crooned again, and fuck if _that_ tone didn't make Angel's insides all melty. The radio demon's hands dipped lower, thumbs toying with the waistband of his skirt as he nosed at his neck. "You smell lovely."

A shiver ran through Angel at the warm breath on his throat. It was hard to formulate words. "Same perfume as always."

"Not the perfume, darling," Alastor murmured, _"you."_

Angel's cheeks heated, and he threaded his fingers through Alastor's hair to give them something to do other than hide his face. He was far too flustered for just this much, but combine the embarrassing declarations with the fact that it was Alastor, the _radio demon,_ the demon overlord notorious for having little to no interest in the company of others, and he wound up with a cocktail of emotions that made him dizzy.

Oh, and the not-so-discreet bulge Angel felt through Alastor's pants and his own panties, pressed far too delightfully against his core. That too.

"Okay, weirdo," he snorted, pushing at Alastor's shoulder. "Stop sniffing me." The radio demon leaned away from him, far enough that they could look each other in the eyes, and Angel rested their foreheads together. "You sure about this?"

"Not entirely," Alastor admitted, closing his eyes, and Angel placed a sympathetic hand on his cheek. His smile was barely-present, a testament to his nerves. "But I'm sure enough. Spending this time with you is far better than resisting the urge."

"You _can_ fight it, yeah?" Angel asked, concern sparking through him, and he knew Alastor would see it on his face were his eyes open. "I don't wanna do this if, like, you _have_ to. That's just . . . it's pretty fucked if you can't say no. I'm not into that."

"I can fight it," Alastor confirmed quietly, sounding incredibly tired, as though the mere idea of it exhausted him. "It's just very uncomfortable to do so."

Uncomfortable may have been the word he used, but underneath it Angel could hear the truth: it was painful. Alastor was not the first demon Angel had met that had these kinds of cycles, and he remembered clearly how one of his clients had spoken about it - like being drugged, overwhelmed with hormones, having your senses assaulted by pheromones, and having little control over your actions

For someone like Alastor, it sounded absolutely horrible. And regardless of whether the pain came from the shame of giving in or the refusal to do so, Angel felt pity worm its way into his heart. Not for the first time, Angel was struck with how unbelievably strong the demon under him was, and how terribly vulnerable during such a time. What would happen were any of his enemies to find out about this?

"Angel," Alastor snapped him out of his thoughts, and as Angel blinked at him he realized the radio demon had opened his eyes. "You're thinking too much about this."

"Seems like you're not thinking enough about it," Angel chuckled weakly. "I don't know, Al - "

"I've thought plenty about this," Alastor interrupted, his voice growing firm, "far more than I ever wished to. I trust that I'm in good hands," he added more quietly, "so trust that I know what I want."

He said it so gently, so vulnerably, and Angel feared the power that placed in his hands. He could see the wavering confidence in those crimson eyes, too. Alastor was trusting him with such a great burden. This knowledge of him, this power over him - Angel could topple the demon overlord in such a short time, if he wished it. Alastor was really handing his leash over to him - to a _prostitute_ \- and hoping he didn't tug too hard.

"What's the matter?" The voice was teasing to cover up concern. "Is _the_ Angel Dust chickening out of sex? What would the tabloids say?"

Angel puffed up his chest, took a deep breath, and put on his most dashing smile. "Not in your dreams, baby," he purred, using one of his lower hands and walking two fingers up Alastor's stomach toward his collar. "What would Mr. Scary Radio Demon like from me?"

He would protect this secret with his life. From anyone.

When Alastor hesitated on his response, Angel took it in stride. He popped open the top few buttons of Alastor's shirt and tugged his bowtie loose, letting it flutter to the ground. "Would you rather I take the lead?"

Alastor only nodded, not trusting himself to speak. His fingers danced over Angel's wrist, the one undressing him, and he asked, "Is this necessary?"

"It's gonna get warm," Angel purred, though he stopped halfway through the buttons, understanding that Alastor was not fond of overexposing himself. "You'll be glad for it later, trust me."

"I trust you," Alastor murmured, an echo, and Angel almost swatted him over the head for being so earnest with him and making that damnable blush return. Almost.

"Alright, loverboy," he purred, rolling his hips in that delicious way he knew best. Alastor's hard-on hadn't faded, even with the serious setting, a testament to just how persistent his predicament was. "No more heartfelt shit past this point, y'hear me?"

Alastor's hands clamped down on his hips at the friction, his eyelids fluttering shut, but the nails digging into his skin only encouraged Angel to move again. He sighed contentedly at the simple pleasure, dragging his hips across Alastor's clothed cock, heat pulsing between his legs at the attention, and he relished in the choked noise Alastor made as he moved. It was tame, simple, but Angel could enjoy some good grinding as long as Alastor enjoyed himself.

Alastor's head thudded against his shoulder, and Angel stroked his hair as his hips kept up that smooth, easy rhythm, the way the fabric of his underwear grew slick making for wonderful friction. "This okay?" he asked, a little breathless at the little shocks of pleasure already dancing at the base of his spine.

"Mm," was Alastor's distant response. Long fingers slid up his thighs, inching past the hem of his skirt and locating the pretty silk red underwear Angel had quickly tugged on for the occasion, and Angel's breath hitched as those wandering hands palmed his ass. As good a confirmation as any, Angel supposed.

Alastor squeezed, and Angel's hips bucked, an embarrassingly high gasp catching him off guard at both the unexpected motion and the way it set his nerves alight, each fingertip pressed into his ass hot and insistent. He paused, trying to compose himself, but Alastor chose that moment to finally roll his hips up in reciprocation, cock grinding against his clit just right, eliciting a louder whine and encouraging him to keep going.

Nimble fingers pushed his skirt up to his waist and out of the way, eagerly exploring, and Angel reveled in how those nails sunk into his skin when they rolled their hips in tandem. Heavens, Angel thought as he let his eyes slide momentarily shut, he hoped they left bruises. Alastor exhaled harshly into his neck at the movement, the heat of his breath and sting of his nails and the friction between them sending a delightful shiver up the spider's spine, and his hands tightened in the radio demon's hair.

Fingers fumbling, Angel's lower hands went for Alastor's belt, and though the radio demon's hands tightened on his hips in anticipation he made no move to stop him. Deftly, Angel undid the clasp, halting their pace as he quickly unzipped Alastor's slacks. Alastor let out a displeased noise at the pause, but when Angel freed his member from his pants and gave it a firm pump, the grumble turned to a low, weak moan, one of Alastor's hands coming up to grip at Angel's wrist, the other covering his traitorous mouth with the back of his hand.

Angel paused, waited, watched as Alastor's eyes fluttered shut and his chest rose and fell with deep breaths. He remained patient - just a moment, a short second to catch his breath, to blink the fog of pleasure away, to regain his focus. When those fingers uncurled from his wrist and his hands slowly relocated to his thighs, Angel peppered a few small kisses of encouragement on his forehead and cheeks before continuing.

He gave another small, experimental rut, and _oh,_ how Alastor ground up hard against him with the motion, Angel keening in response. Those claws dug harder into his skin, dragged down his thighs, eliciting a biting moan as lines of red welled up in their wake and slick silk wetted from Angel's pleasure dragged over the radio demon's length. Alastor all but lunged for his throat, nipping sharply at the junction between neck and shoulder, muffling the pleased noises he couldn't help but make.

A keening whine rent the air at the sharp pain, and there was no hope for a steady rhythm anymore as Angel bucked his hips helplessly, aching for release. Alastor's fingers dipped under the waistband of his panties, tugging them down impatiently as he bit down harder, sharp teeth sinking in deeper, and Angel might have been worried were he still alive. Reluctantly, he lifted himself slightly on trembling thighs, allowing Alastor to slide the fabric further down, far enough to expose Angel's aching, leaking cunt.

Alastor's hands wandered lower, and though Angel shuddered with delight and struggled against sinking down on the finger tracing his slick folds, he still shook his head and grabbed blindly for Alastor's wrists, relocating them to his hips.

"N-Not yet," he managed through the haze of pleasure fogging his mind and the curling heat in his gut. Alastor let out an irate growl against his neck, making Angel's legs feel like jelly, and he whined as those nails dug into his back. "Later, baby. Promise."

Carefully phrased, delicately so, framing it as something Alastor had to earn rather than something he might later regret doing so soon. Angel knew he wasn't ready for that - not yet - not that the spider didn't desperately crave that incredible cock inside him. Instead, he scooted forward on Alastor's lap, guiding Alastor's length to slide against his wet pussy, and gave a slow, pointed grind downward.

The noises they made were positively lewd, Alastor's throaty moan music to Angel's ears even as he let out a shameful one of his own. To his surprise, Alastor took initiative, fingers digging harder into Angel's hips as he gave a firm thrust upward. Angel's thighs trembled at the pleasure that raced up his spine, a high moan filling the air between them as his fingers twisted in Alastor's shirt, and it only encouraged Alastor to bring Angel's wet cunt grinding against his hard length once more.

Angel was supposed to be the one in charge, but all he could do was pant and whine when Alastor set his agonizingly slow, hard pace. That hard cock, wet with Angel's pleasure, ground relentlessly against his throbbing clit, sending white-hot sparks dancing up Angel's spine with every thrust, and each of Angel's hands clung desperately on to whatever they were holding to keep him grounded - Alastor's shoulder, his shirt, his hair. Alastor's grip was strong and demanding, taking his pleasure, moving Angel with him like he weighed nothing, and the thought only made him squirm desperately for more friction.

"F-Fuck, _Al,"_ he whimpered, and Alastor _growled,_ teeth sinking hard into his shoulder and _shit_ that was not helping the fog of arousal clouding his thoughts or the tight knot of pleasure building in his gut. "A-Al, 'm close - _ahh_ \- Al, baby, d-don't stop - "

Angel's pleas earned a harder pace, the head of Alastor's cock grinding tantalizingly against his clit, and Angel knew he wouldn't last. His back arched, hips rutting with reckless abandon now as broken whines left his lips, the combination of that hard length sliding against his wet cunt and those talented lips on his neck becoming too good, too much. Alastor picked yet another unmarked spot, somewhere on his collarbone, to sink his sharp teeth into to muffle a low groan, and Angel was done for.

His hips stuttered, inconsistent, but Alastor was steady, rutting against him through it all as Angel rode that high, coming hard all over that hot length. His vision whited, nothing mattering for a long instant but the wave of pleasure wracking his body, weak moans of something that sounded vaguely like Alastor's name falling from his lips as the radio demon worked him through his completion.

After a long moment of panting and catching his breath, he processed that his cheek was resting on Alastor's head, and he straightened up and sheepishly unclenched the fingers that were twisted tightly in the deer's hair. Alastor pulled away, as well, and while for a guilty instant Angel thought Alastor had been left hanging, until he processed the sticky white mess between them. That was good, Angel thought.

"You're quiet," Angel murmured, tracing his thumbs over Alastor's cheeks.

"A moment," the radio demon mumbled, letting his head thud softly against Angel's chest, the static in his voice rough and somewhat garbled. At the motion, Angel's attention was drawn to the dull pain under his skin where the bites were. Those would ache like bruises for a while, were too deep to avoid it. Not that he was complaining. They were leaking blood, though, which was bound to get messy.

"Al," Angel crooned, pressing a gentle kiss to his head, and Alastor gave a low, questioning hum in response. "You okay, baby?" The next hum was generally affirmative-sounding, and Angel huffed out a laugh. "Come on. You'll want cleaned up."

"Seems counter-productive," Alastor sighed into his neck. "It's bound to get a lot messier."

"Already?" Angel countered. When Alastor didn't reply, he paused, and a flush warmed his cheeks when those clawed fingers started to rub firm circles into his hips. " . . . oh."

"If you need a break - "

"Ohoho, no. Nope, no way. You already got my interest, you're not getting rid of me now."

Famous last words, Angel thought, yet regretted nothing as their kisses grew steamy, as Alastor took his time admiring the view as Angel quickly stripped his clothes off and impatient fingers slid along his velvety folds. Fumbling hands shoved Alastor's shirt off his shoulders and tossed it aside, who no longer cared as his fingers pushed into Angel, earning an eager keen.

Alastor was getting pushier, now, showing no signs of fatigue from his earlier climax, just taking noteworthy pleasure in the way Angel's hips canted almost of their own accord. Deep inside, Alastor curled his fingers, looking for the right spot, obvious in his success when Angel cried out suddenly and his eyes flew open. Alastor took his time massaging the spot, hungry eyes taking in the way he squirmed and his pretty lips hung open.

"Oh, f-fuck," Angel swore, nails digging in for purchase on Alastor's bare shoulders. "Fuck, baby, _Al."_

Angel brought one of his hands up to bite at, cheeks a lovely shade of red, the noises that those wonderful fingers were forcing from him incredibly lewd. His hole ached for more, the stretch not enough, and already his clit throbbed in need despite such a recent climax. He fought the urge to touch - if he did, he knew he'd be coming again far too soon.

"Ah-ah," Alastor tutted, and oh _fuck,_ was his voice deeper? More raspy? Whatever it was, Angel loved it. Alastor grasped his wrist and pulled it free from his mouth, eyes glowing in the low light. "I want to hear those pretty noises."

 _"Fuck,_ Al," Angel whined, face hot, because of _course_ Alastor had to be all sweet and shit in place of dirty talk. Dirty talk, Angel could handle. Compliments, less so. "Shit, Al, I'm good - s-stop teasing, already - "

Any other day, perhaps, Alastor might have continued for a while longer just to torment him. Any other day, Alastor might have made him beg and squirm for ages. As it were, though, Alastor's fingers retreated, and Angel whined at the loss. He reached for Alastor's cock, eager to get on with it, but Alastor snatched his wrist with burning eyes.

"Turn around," Alastor ordered him, and, curious, Angel obeyed. He wriggled around, reluctant to actually step out of the chair, positive his legs were too shaky to stand on. Eventually he was settled with his back to Alastor, who nuzzled at his neck and purred, "Good boy."

A soft whine escaped him at the praise. Quickly he could see why Alastor had commanded him to move; a few feet before the chair was a large mirror Angel did not remember seeing before, and Alastor had likely just brought it into existence. In it he could see so much - an embarrassing amount, really - his own flushed, heaving chest, the sticky mess coating his thighs, and, as he raised himself up somewhat on his knees, he nearly moaned at the realization that he would be able to see _everything_ soon enough.

"You dirty bastard," Angel groaned, earning a chuckle. Alastor's chin rested on his shoulder, gaze trailing appreciatively over Angel's body in the mirror.

"So lovely," he murmured, the compliment earning yet another small whine. Heavens, if Angel had a praise kink, he might just die of embarrassment. "Keep your eyes open, Angel. I want you to watch every second while I take my pretty little mate."

Fuck, okay. This was definitely a side of Alastor Angel was not familiar with, but he was loving it.

One hand settled on his hip as Angel lifted himself up on strong thighs, and Alastor held them both steady as he sunk down on the radio demon's cock. They both let out satisfied sounds, and Angel shifted his hips as Alastor's length stretched him open, filling him delightfully, so thick and deep. Alastor basked for a moment in the incredible, tight heat around his dick before he moved pointedly, and Angel took the hint.

He lifted himself up again and let himself sink back down, and let out a pathetic noise at the sight before him. Bracing his lower hands on Alastor's legs and the upper ones on the armrests, he set a slow pace, eyes transfixed on the mirror. His blush increased notably as he watched his greedy pussy take in every inch of Alastor's cock - a noteworthy accomplishment - and low moans fell from his lips as the thick head rubbed so sweetly each time.

Worse still, Alastor's still-glowing, half-lidded eyes were glued to him through the mirror, hungry as they took in his lovely curves and heaving chest and the way Angel took his cock so well. Alastor reached around and traced circles around Angel's clit, and after already coming once that was more than enough to have Angel buckling.

 _"Aah!_ Al, fuck!" Angel panted, increasing his pace as he rocked between Alastor's cock and hand, a high-pitched keen escaping his lips. "N-Not gonna - _nngh -_ last l-long like this - !"

Alastor did not show any sign he cared. Angel watched as his tongue darted out from between his lips, lapping up some of the blood from one of the bites he'd left prior, and a shiver traveled down Angel's body, swirling in with the immense pleasure and leaving him trembling.

His moans turned to sharp cries that rose in pitch with every thrust, Alastor's hips snapping up with his rhythm now, and before Angel realized it his climax was overtaking him. His hips rutted unevenly, pussy clenching around the length inside him as he came all over Alastor's cock for the second time that night. Alastor's pace didn't waver, and Angel rode the high, whining with every thrust and struggling to keep up with his trembling thighs complaining, until Alastor was pumping him full of his warm load.

They lay there for longer than Angel bothered to keep track, catching their breath, before Alastor finally stirred, pressing gentle kisses along Angel's neck and shoulder. "Alright, Angel, darling," he hummed, bringing his hands up to fluff the chest hair that had been dampened by sweat. _"Now_ we can clean up."

Unwilling to move, Angel only whined petulantly.

* * *

Alastor only got more insatiable as time went on. Hours were spent with Angel's fingers twisting into the sheets as Alastor fucked him into the mattress, oversensitive but loving every second of it, though when Angel was just too far gone and overworked Alastor would back off with remarkable restraint. Angel never left him hanging for long, though, enjoying the rut while it lasted.

Angel was periodically tasked with venturing back out into the world for food and water, and though at first he made an effort to seem somewhat put-together and merely claimed that Alastor was feeling unwell and only wished to see Angel, as the days passed he put less and less effort into looking presentable. The others could clearly see through his half-truth, but did not seem keen on asking questions. Husk even took to passing him whiskey despite Vaggie's protest, claiming he'd need it.

Okay, Husk probably knew. Good guy, though, not saying anything.

"I'm back," Angel greeted softly as he let himself back into the room, and warm arms wrapped around his torso. "Nuh-uh, let me eat first. Jeez, you're insatiable."

Alastor sighed melodramatically but released him, and they settled on the disaster of a bed. Thankfully, Alastor had thrown on some pajama pants, providing significantly less distraction as Angel wolfed down some pastries Niffty had offered him.

"Angel," Alastor said suddenly, lowering the bottle of water he had been drinking. The spider demon cocked his head curiously, a cue for him to continue, and Alastor seemed to mull over the words in his head a moment longer before speaking. "I wanted to thank you for spending this time with me. You didn't have to, and I know I haven't been the most considerate of your needs - "

"Are you kidding?" Angel blurted, quickly swallowing the bite of sweet bread. "You're being, like, _ridiculously_ gentle. You talked about this whole thing like you were some kind of unstoppable horny beast!" Alastor broke into a rough chuckle, and though Angel didn't miss the nervous undertone, he chose not to comment on it. "Really, Al, I'm happy to help."

"And help you have," Alastor replied. He seemed thoughtful, almost, when he continued. "I made it sound that way because it's _supposed_ to be that way. But with you helping me through it, I feel more clear-headed. More . . . myself."

"Yeah, actually getting off probably helps some," Angel snorted, chugging some water. He was absolutely famished - it had been nearly an entire day since he last ate. At Alastor's furrowed brow, though, he added, "I mean, probably anyone could've done it, but I'm choosing to believe it's me. A guy's gotta feel special sometimes, y'know?"

Alastor huffed out a laugh, less stressed and more amused this time, and he leaned over the tray Angel had brought to steal a kiss. Angel thought he might say something when he pulled back again, but only wound up watching Alastor's eyes flit from Angel's own to his lips before he claimed another kiss.

"I didn't even finish my food," Angel pouted, but put up no resistance as Alastor pushed him back against the bed.

"Multitask," Alastor suggested dryly, and Angel's wholehearted laugh was swallowed up by another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the third draft of this cursed chapter and i'm still not happy with it so sorry if it disappoints


	5. Post-Rut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chap is just The Aftermath (tm). beware of cute shit.
> 
> y'all are so great, ilysm. thank you for following this so loyally sajfsdk

"Al, baby."

"Mmm."

It was muffled by the pillow, and Angel reached out to thread his fingers through those vivid red locks. That got a response, finally - Alastor's hand came up and grabbed his wrist, pushing him away with a groan. The radio demon finally rolled over, blinking blearily at Angel, who gestured to the tray of food he'd brought.

"No touching," Alastor reminded him with a yawn as he sat up. He was clad in comfortable pajamas that covered as much skin as possible, a stark contrast to only days before when he'd loathed to have any fabric on at all.

Angel perched on the edge of the bed and let Alastor take the tray from him, leaning back on his hands when Alastor reluctantly took a bite. It had been a fight to make him eat regular food at all. "You don't get up if I haven't annoyed you enough," the spider demon countered sweetly.

Alastor grumbled something half-heartedly to himself, cranky but with no real comeback. Angel supposed that was just a testament to how exhausted the poor fool was. Truly, after the past week and a half of constant explicit contact, Angel could not blame him for being extremely repulsed by the idea of touch. Still, somehow, Alastor had the patience to allow Angel little things.

Were it anyone else, he probably would have snapped their wrist.

Alastor sipped the mug of black coffee provided, eyes half-lidded and bags incredibly pronounced. It was progress; this was a record for how quickly he'd gotten up since the end of his rut. The radio demon had spent a good two days straight, dead asleep. Were it not for Husk's gruff reassurances that this was normal, Angel would have been incredibly worried.

When he awoke he had been absolutely starving and incredibly sluggish, though generally unwilling to get up and ergo unable to hunt. Animal meat wasn't his favorite, but it was what they had on hand and what he had to deal with - as Vaggie said, she was not going to go out and do his dirty work for him. Murdering fellow demons was not on the list of acceptable actions for redemption-seekers.

"How're you holding up?" Angel asked, stretching his upper arms and falling back onto the mattress.

"Tired," Alastor responded honestly, for the third or fourth time. The answer never changed, though he did sound remarkably less exhausted each time he said it. "I might return to work, though. I believe I've left the hotel hanging for long enough."

"Take your time," Angel insisted, worry spiking at the idea of him getting up and about too early. "Charlie wants to make sure her sponsor gets properly better from his, uh, cold."

Alastor gave a quiet snort. "I assure you, I am more than recovered from my _cold_ to return to work," he scoffed. "It is merely an effort to keep up appearances."

"Don't worry about it, Al," Angel promised, patting Alastor's leg through the blanket. "They've lasted this long without you. The place isn't gonna come down if you dake another day or two off."

Alastor only hummed in response, returning to his meal, and Angel rested his head back on the plush blankets with his arms sprawled out, staring at the ceiling. He was pretty sure the ceiling of Alastor's room was taller than the actual floor of the building. _Why_ was a good question, but Angel had learned better than to bother with it. He was happier blissfully ignorant than trying to understand Alastor.

He didn't have to understand Alastor. He just had to respect him, and he did.

Angel caught the sound of the tray being set on the nightstand, and then fingers were lacing delicately with his own. Angel turned his head to the radio demon, brows furrowed - Alastor was initiating touch already? - but he was already nestling back into his blankets, only his eyes upward peeking out from under them.

"You don't say it," Alastor said, muffled by the blankets, "but I see the way your fingers twitch. This much is fine."

Well, yes, Angel had been feeling a little touch-starved, not being allowed to touch Alastor for several days, but . . . well, that was a simple enough boundary. Angel could respect it, could accept the past few weeks as more than enough. Alastor really didn't have to do this.

But Alastor's hand remained firmly in his as his eyes slid shut, and then as that soft white noise rose that indicated he was asleep. A goofy grin split over Angel's face that he couldn't stop, and he threw an arm over his eyes, embarrassed despite nobody watching. What an absurd gesture to put that giddy feeling in his chest.

He squeezed Alastor's hand, and his heart nearly burst when those fingers twitched, gently squeezing back.

* * *

"He's been out a while."

"Huh?"

Angel sleepily sipped his coffee, blinking blearily at Husk, who rolled his eyes. "Alastor. He usually isn't out this long. Just interesting, is all."

"He's . . . not?" Angel asked lamely, cocking his head. Suddenly, he blinked rapidly and straightened, worry and guilt leaking into his words. "Do you think something's wrong?"

Was it his fault? Was it because they'd gone through it together? Had he done something stupid? Was Alastor even _more_ vulnerable now? But Husk only waved a dismissive paw, leaning over and topping off Angel's coffee with a generous amount of whiskey.

"Chill out, kid," he grumbled, capping the bottle as Angel swirled his cup to mix it. "He's just usually eager to get the hell out of bed when all that shit's done and over with. Doesn't like how weak it makes him look." He paused, unscrewed the cap again, and started drinking straight from the bottle. "S'pose he thinks it's actually safe enough here for some R&R."

Relief sagged at Angel's shoulders, and a small, fond grin tugged at his mouth. Safe enough, huh? Alastor felt comfortable enough - protected enough - to allow himself recovery time? Heavens, why did that make him swell with pride?

"Wait a second," Angel blurted suddenly, peering suspiciously at Husk. "You totally knew the whole time!"

"'Course I knew," Husk snorted. "Who do you think used to cover for him? Guy needed an alibi for his sudden disappearances."

Oh, shit. That was . . . really sweet. Husk didn't like to admit it, but he really was a good friend to Alastor, wasn't he?

"That's my Husker," came a familiar, cheerful voice - then there _he_ was, popping up suddenly from behind the bar amidst a strangled yell from Husk, who couldn't escape the arm thrown around him. "My most reliable ally! Truly, you are a beacon of loyalty and honor!"

"Don't go around tellin' people that," Husk scowled, extracting himself firmly from Alastor's grasp. "I got a reputation to uphold."

"Of course, of course," Alastor hummed, though he did not leave without scratching the cat demon under the chin and almost getting his finger bitten off in kind. Alastor made his way around the bar, a jump in his step, and slid into the stool next to Angel, giving it a spin or two before he stopped its movement. "And Angel! I apologize for my absence this cold morning - I'm afraid I overslept!"

"Didn't know you were coming down at all today," Angel replied easily, taking a long drag of his coffee. The whiskey had cooled it off somewhat, and he gave a low noise of displeasure but went for it again anyway. "You're in a good mood."

"A good night's rest will do that to a man!" Alastor replied brightly. "Or, I suppose, a good week's!"

He seemed to be absolutely brimming with energy, and when he offered his hand to Angel, the spider definitely did not expect to be tugged forward off the stool and spun in a circle. Husk had the sense to snatch his coffee just in the nick of time before it met an unfortunate fate.

Alastor released Angel's hand and twirled behind his back, snatching a hand on the other side, his coattails fluttering behind him with the motion. Alastor's other hand went to Angel's waist, and, unsure of what he was supposed to do, Angel hesitantly placed his free upper hand on the arm holding his waist, the lower arms out of the way.

Alastor seemed positively delighted by the way his smile lit up, and as he led them into another whirl around, Angel couldn't help his laugh as he asked, "Does this mean we're up for next year?"

The spin halted and Alastor unfurled them both, only their hands still together, and Angel did his best to mimic Alastor's pose as they stretched far apart, their arms flourishing outward. Angel had no clue what he was doing, but Alastor seemed extremely pleased with the effort to at least look like he had some idea of what was going on. The radio demon was an easy lead to follow, at least, which was great for his very tired and very confused winter brain.

"Up for every year," was Alastor's jovial response as he tugged him into another spin.

"What in the - ?" A new voice reached them, and Angel caught a glimpse of Vaggie and Charlie emerging from the latter's office, several folders of paperwork in hand. "What is going _on in here?"_

Alastor didn't halt, only granted Vaggie a wave, and Charlie promptly dropped her paperwork, bouncing in excitement as she shouted, "Your feet, Angel! Move your feet!" before yanking Vaggie out into the lobby to join them.

Angel was no dancer, and was probably making an absolute fool of himself, tripping over his feet like this, but at least he wasn't alone now - Vaggie _also_ had no idea what she was doing as Charlie spun her around in reckless circles. And besides, the positively glowing smile Alastor gave him, pressing a kiss to one of his hands as they slowed, made it totally worth it.

Angel would do this every _month_ if it meant seeing Alastor this happy, let lone every year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fin

**Author's Note:**

> leaving a comment inspires me to keep it coming! :)


End file.
